The Naming of Things
by lizardwriter
Summary: Tea's got feelings, but she's fighting them, and she's damn well not going to name them. A US Skins drabble. Disclaimer: I don't own Skins or the characters.


The kisses are stolen at first. Drunken. Sloppy, a bit.

Fucking good, though.

Of course, she'd expect nothing less from her. Any girl that Tony'd fuck would have to be halfway decent, at least.

.

It's not like she can't get any girl that she wants. She's sure as hell got the fucking looks.

Maybe it's just the challenge, then, that initially draws her to her. That and that adorable smile, and the sparkle in her eyes, and the way that red hair's never looked better.

.

She's not sure when it changes for her. When it stops being a challenge and starts being something she really wants. When the kisses become less hurried. When they start happening sober, and in places they probably shouldn't. When she stopped being able to keep her hands off her.

All she knows is that it does.

.

The first time she succeeds in getting her into bed (like a proper bed, not her couch or under the bleachers or a stall in the girl's bathroom at school), it really hits her.

This isn't just any girl. It isn't just any fuck.

When she sees her red hair splayed against her white pillowcase, her fair skin contrasting against her pale blue sheet, her freckles, looking that little bit darker now that her whole body's slightly flushed from the exertion, making her look that much more beautiful (as is the thin sheen of sweat that covers her body), that's when she realizes that this _means_ something.

.

She doesn't put a name to it.

Not even when her gut twists into uncomfortable knots and bile rises in the back of her throat when she sees her in Tony's arms at a party, his tongue halfway down her throat, one hand possessively grabbing her ass.

Not even when the butterflies in her stomach threaten to overwhelm her when they're in her bed and Michelle pushes a strand of her hair back and simply strokes her face for a minute, looking at her with those beautiful, blue-green eyes, with obvious affection.

Not even when she starts turning down easy lays. Like the one girl who practically throws herself at her, could not be more obvious that she wants nothing more than to fuck her out back of the club, and it's been almost a week since she's had any one-on-one time with Michelle, so it's not like she's not fucking horny as hell.

.

It hits a point (not that she wants it to, but it does anyway) where she has to name it, and after that it feels like it's just burning away inside of her.

She's torn between wanting to tell her (or anyone, really) just for the relief of having it out there, and wanting to bury it so deep inside her that it'll never be able to get out.

She ultimately opts for the option of ignoring it in the hopes that it'll just go away eventually and she'll be able to carry on with her life.

.

It doesn't work.

If anything, it gets worse. It's like she's fallen off this cliff and she's grappling for a hold on anything, stray roots, rocks sticking out, anything, and nothing works so she just feels herself falling further and further. She's terrified what happens when she hits the bottom.

She can't stand to see her with him anymore, which has put quite a dent in her friendship with him, and he's starting to notice all of the measures she's taken to avoid being around the two of them together. It's put a dent in her social life, too, which she's less than thrilled about.

.

She can't stand it. She just fucking can't. She can't do this anymore or play this fucking game.

There's red hair against her pillow again, and it's the thought that she never wants it to leave that finally breaks her down and makes her admit it, makes her finally say it aloud.

She kisses her softly, too softly almost, but she feels it all the way down to her fucking toes anyway.

"'Chelle, I- God this is going to sound so fucking stupid, but I love you. I know you think you're in love with Tony and you think he's in love with you, but…He may have loved you first, but I love you best, and it kills me seeing you with him, and-"

The kiss that Michelle cuts her off with is anything but soft. In seconds she's pinned to her bed, breathless and fucking wet as anything.

Michelle smiles down at her, and she honestly thinks that her heart might explode.

"Took you long enough to tell me," she says, then kisses her again, with more tenderness, but no less passion.

When Michelle proceeds to kiss her way down her body and show her with touch that her feelings are anything but one-sided, she can't help but agree.


End file.
